Let's Start Fires
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: When Percy agreed to help Charlie get his shop off the ground, he didn't expect Draco Malfoy to turn his world upside down. Muggle!au, tattoo artist!au. PercyDraco, with platonic Percy&Charlie


**A/N: Hey y'all! Here's some PercyDraco for you—and it's only a little angsty, look at that. XD Plus Charlie. Because we love Charlie in this house. **

**Forestry Task 1: Write about someone in the LGBTQ community **

**Word Count: 2314**

**WARNINGS: Some mentioned hateful language regarding tattoos/piercings, mentioned homophobia, and strong language**

**Note: This is a tattoo artist/muggle!au**

**Thanks to Grace for beta-ing!**

**Enjoy!**

"Charlie, I—_no._"

Charlie paused his insistent tugging on Percy's arm and turned to glare at his younger brother. "Just let me do one tattoo, Perce. I promise you won't regret it."

Percy crossed his arms protectively over his body. He knew Charlie wouldn't force him into one if he truly didn't want it, but both brothers knew that it wasn't the ink that bothered him.

When Percy's silence stretched on, Charlie's shoulders slumped. He placed a large hand on Percy's shoulder and gave him a concerned look. Percy tried not to stiffen under the scrutiny, but he felt his shoulders tense anyway.

"Listen, Percy…" Charlie dragged his free hand through his hair. "Davies was a prick, okay? But you can't just live your life by his rules—"

Percy closed his eyes against the onslaught of memories that bombarded him at those words. He'd tailed after Roger for months, listening to him scorn anyone who _marred_ their bodies, who acted _unconventionally_. Percy disagreed strongly with the sentiment, but Roger was the first one to reach out to him in a long time. He'd stood by Percy during some rough times, so Percy had forgiven him those hateful quips.

It was only when he confessed to Roger that he fancied him that he realized the football player wouldn't stand by him forever.

But as hurtful as that parting had been… "I'm not going to get a tattoo to say 'fuck you' to Roger Davies."

Charlie spread his hands to the side, looking affronted. "Why not? It'd be a great way to teach him a lesson."

"On homophobia?"

"On discriminatory behaviors in general."

Percy scoffed, tugging his lips downward when they threatened to quirk upwards in a fond smile. "It isn't that easy, Charlie," he said, his right hand moving up to fiddle anxiously with his glasses. "Nothing is ever that easy."

There was a short pause as Charlie considered his words. Shifting anxiously and feeling ridiculously exposed on the sunny street, Percy waited for him to say something, _anything_. Charlie Weasley wasn't one for speechlessness, so this silence was unnerving.

"At least take a look around the shop," Charlie said at last. "I'm a rather good artist, you know, and you're a terribly honest critic. Come in and tell me how to get this place off the ground."

He thought, for a minute, about refusing, but eventually gave in. Charlie had only recently moved back to England from Romania, so time with him had been few and far between. Charlie gleefully led him to the new shop, chattering on about how he'd already hired a couple of employees to kick off the business and how pleased he was with the sparse customers he'd received so far.

Percy listened for the most part, a little amused by his brother's ramblings. Charlie knew how to fill up a silence, and Percy was content to just let the words wash over him. Just a few minutes after they began walking, they turned into a little shop on the corner of the street.

When they entered the building, it was clear to Percy that Charlie was expecting some sort of reaction. And the place was nice—really, it was—but the man in the corner immediately snagged Percy's attention.

The man, who seemed to be a few years younger than Percy, looked up when the door opened. His grey eyes were guarded and wary; an expression Percy often saw on his own face. His mouth ran dry.

"Right, well, this is just the front desk you know," Charlie said suddenly, breaking Percy out of his reverie. "So… is this passable, or are you going to be redecorating for me?"

Percy swallowed thickly and turned his attention back to his brother. "It's fine," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

Charlie's brows rose to his hairline at the short answer—he'd been right when he'd called Percy a critic. He seemed to flounder for words for a minute, his brown eyes sweeping the place for the source of Percy's speechlessness—and landed directly on the man in the corner. A wicked smile spread across Charlie's sunburned face, making Percy's stomach plummet.

"Where are my manners?" Charlie sounded _entirely_ too gleeful. "Percy, this is Draco—he'll be doing piercings. Draco, my little brother Percy."

Horrified by the introduction, Percy shot Charlie a glare before sticking his hand out to Draco. "Nice to meet you," he said, perhaps a bit more loudly than he should have.

Draco nodded in acknowledgement, some blond strands of hair falling in front of his face. He shook Percy's hand briefly but firmly, and Roger was suddenly inconsequential.

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets once he'd let go of Percy's hand, but he didn't lower his gaze. His oversized black hoodie almost swallowed him, but Percy could still make out his slight frame. There wasn't a blemish on his smooth, pale skin. He seemed to be the exact opposite of Charlie, whose short and stocky build made him an intimidating figure, and whose skin was littered with burns, scars, calluses, and freckles. Seeing them together was a little startling, but intriguing.

"Are you his interior decorator, then?" Draco asked, eyeing Percy up and down. The words were so deadpan, Percy wasn't sure whether Draco was being sarcastic, though. Still, he cleared his throat and responded.

"No—"

"Yes," Charlie interrupted. "Sort of. He's my much too honest, very opinionated brother, so I bring him around to critique the things I care about." He spread his hands out. "In this case, aesthetic appeal."

Percy huffed as an amused smile quirked the corner of Draco's mouth. "I work at the law firm nearby," he said, his voice a little strained. "Once Charlie gets his shit together, I'll be handling the legal papers."

Draco seemed surprised. "Impressive," he said, sounding almost reluctant to give the praise. "So, I suppose you won't be a customer, then?"

Before Percy could respond, Charlie jumped in. "I've been trying to convince him to let me work my magic, but he's resisted so far." Percy's internal radar was going wild; he'd lived with Charlie long enough to know when he was trapped. "But maybe you could convince him to partake in your craft."

Draco smirked a little and turned to Percy. "Well, Weasley?"

Percy had a strong, sudden urge to wipe the smug look off of Draco's face—he was clearly expecting the older man to refuse… and the firm _did_ allow piercings.

"Sure," he said, uncharacteristically bold. "Why not?"

Those pale lips opened and closed for a moment, speechless. Percy resisted the grin that was threatening to break out over his face. Finally, Draco shrugged his shoulders, desperately trying to regain his lost composure.

"Come on, then."

He turned to prepare his station—the shop was technically closed at the moment—leaving Charlie and Percy in the waiting area.

Charlie waggled his eyebrows at his brother mischievously. "I never took you as the piercing type."

Percy ran his hands through his red curls, already wondering what he'd just agreed to. "But you took me as the tattoo type?"

"Everyone is the tattoo type," Charlie scoffed. "Don't think I can't see through you. You were practically _salivating_ on that poor man."

"I was not," Percy sputtered, his cheeks going scarlet. "This is a _fuck you, Roger Davies_, remember?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Sure it is."

* * *

A week later, Percy regretted ever entering the shop and meeting Draco Malfoy, because he didn't have the time to properly take care of the damn piercing.

It was just a simple stud in his earlobe, so the most he had to do was keep it clean, but he'd always been dreadful when it came to self-care. He had half a mind to take the thing out and let the hole close.

Charlie's insufferable behavior wasn't helping his mood.

Percy closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. He was swimming in paperwork and had hardly been able to concentrate on it all week—the memory of warm fingers on his jaw still chased him. As he spoke into the phone, he tried not to snap at his brother.

"No, I'm not going to stop by the shop just so you can try and play matchmaker."

An indignant sound came from the other end of the line. "This is serious business, Perce! I need an extra hand down here. Just secretary work, I promise. You're good at that."

Percy pinched the bridge of his nose and debated. The shop was beginning to lift off the ground, which had Charlie scrambling for supplies—and employees. While there was a lot of work to be done in his flat, Percy reluctantly admitted to himself that he could use a distraction.

"Fine." He sighed. "Only for a couple hours, okay? I have important work to do."

"Yes, that's fine—thanks, Perce! I'll even pay you, how's that?"

Percy shook his head, letting out a small chuckle. "We both know you won't."

Ten minutes later, Percy found himself sorting out appointments for the large group of people who just came through. He made a mental note to help Charlie hire another artist soon, or else his brother would be looking at very long work days.

Eventually, he managed to pacify the group—a family trying to cross something off their bucket list, he guessed. After that, fewer people came in, giving Percy a moment to relax.

"I didn't expect to see you here today."

Percy looked up from the computer, startled. Draco stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was left blank, but the mystery behind his expression made him all the more interesting to Percy, who'd always loved a good puzzle.

He cleared his throat. "Well, here I am."

Soft footsteps could be heard as Draco approached the desk. Percy's heart pounded as Draco reached out for his jaw, gently turning Percy's head so he could see his handiwork. He snorted and twisted the stud; Percy winced as his skin unstuck from the metal rod.

"You haven't been following my directions," Draco noted, an amused lilt in his voice. "I thought you were a rule follower."

Percy huffed and turned his head away. "I've been doing a decent enough job."

"Sure." Draco eyed him carefully. "Charlie says you're trying to get back at a homophobic prick."

Exhaling through his nose, Percy reminded himself to strangle his brother at the earliest opportunity. "Sort of. I haven't actually seen him since we… parted ways."

Draco released his face; Percy tried not to appear disappointed. "Well, whyever you did it, it looks good."

A pleased flush spread across Percy's cheekbones. "Erm. Thanks."

Another smirk from Draco. "Maybe you shouldn't be thanking me. I was complimenting myself as much as I was you."

Percy let out a surprised laugh and shook his head. His heart ached with want, but he was content for now to just talk with Draco; the younger man hadn't been giving off any signs of interest.

Of course, Charlie always told him that he was painfully oblivious, but Percy tried to stamp down that hope.

"Draco," he murmured. "Tell me about yourself."

The conversation that followed was stunning in its ease. The tension in Percy's chest fizzled out as the minutes ticked by until he was laughing and smiling as much as he did with any other friend.

He learned that Draco and Charlie met in Romania when Draco was trying to escape a past mistake. What it was, Draco didn't say, but Percy wasn't put off. He'd worked with enough criminals—and made enough mistakes himself—to know that nothing in the world was black and white.

After several enjoyable minutes, the alarm on Percy's watch sounded. He glanced at the time and bit back a groan, looking apologetically at Draco. "I'm sorry, I need to head into the office. It was nice speaking with you, though—perhaps I'll see you again next week."

He gathered up his things and was about to head towards the door when Draco's hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist.

"I…" Draco seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before plowing on. "Are you free Friday evening? I thought we might be able to go to dinner." He lifted an eyebrow. "And I'll have the chance to make sure you haven't given yourself an infection, too."

Percy's hand unconsciously reached up to touch the stud in his ear, and he blinked, dazed, at Draco. "I—yes, I'd like that. Thank you."

Draco looked triumphant and nodded. "I've got to get back to work, but I'll see you around, Weasley."

Percy sucked in a breath as Draco left, his heart lighter than it had been in ages. He was finally ready to put Roger behind him… and maybe step into himself at last.

The thought made him pause. He retracted his hand from where it had been resting on the door and went into the back room where he knew Charlie would be taking his break. Indeed, he found his brother sitting on a sofa with his tongue between his teeth, his sketchbook open in his lap.

Charlie looked up when he entered, and his entire face brightened. "Hey! Draco said you had to step into work. Thanks again for coming today—"

"Charlie," Percy blurted out, "I'd like to cash in on that tattoo offer."

For a minute, Charlie just sat there, shocked. But then an elated grin spread across his features.

"Oh, you have a date, don't you? _Brilliant!_ I knew you just needed someone to get you out of that shell—no, don't change your mind. Here, here, let's do it now, I have loads for you to choose from…"

As Percy followed Charlie further into the building, he passed Draco and caught the blond's eye. Draco just smirked at him and offered a small nod of approval.

Oh, yes. The paperwork could wait.


End file.
